


Makkachin!!! on Ice!

by surreal_eyes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreal_eyes/pseuds/surreal_eyes
Summary: Makkachin is the bestest boy - on and off the ice.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Yakov Feltsman & Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Makkachin!!! on Ice!

It’s not that Victor necessarily MEANT for Makkachin to ice skate.  
That would be silly, after all. First off, they didn’t make dog sized ice skates (Victor had checked. Several times). Second off, dogs weren’t exactly built for ice skating. Third, well, Victor was pretty sure it was a Bad Idea in general.  
That didn’t stop Makkachin from launching himself towards the ice the first time Victor brought him to the rink.  
It was the puppy eyes that had done him in, really. Victor was a complete sap for puppy eyes. That morning, he’d fed him, brushed out his curly fur, given him the supplements the vet had recommended, and made sure he had access to the bedroom – he napped on Victor’s bed more than his own, after all. Then Victor had gathered up his rink stuff, stuffing training clothes and power bars into his bag, all while Makkachin peered mournfully at him from the bed.  
Mournfully. How could Victor say no to that?  
So, with a sigh, Victor had reached for the leash. Makkachin, well trained in ‘walksies’ at this point, had launched himself off the bed with an alarming amount of energy and danced around Victor’s feet, paws tap-taping against the wood floor.  
And that is how Victor had shown up to training, complete with his gear, skates… and one dog, dogging at his heels.  
Yakov had stared. “Vitya.” He started, pressing a finger at his temples. It was 6am – really too early for a headache, and yet... “Why did you bring your dog to the rink?”  
Victor glanced up from tying his skates, then glanced at the dog strapped to the leash, which he had twined around one of the spectator benches. “Um.” He started, eloquently. “He… wanted to come watch?”  
Yakov, not amused, had glared and rubbed his temple some more. He briefly wondered if his stash of aspirin in the office had run out. He hoped he could eek out one more dose from the bottle he really should have Sharpie’ed ‘Vitya Relief’ on.   
Victor had smiled his most charming Press Smile. They both had held those expressions until finally Yakov caved, grunting. What else was he supposed to do? The dog was already there.  
“Keep the mutt off the ice.”  
Simple instructions, right? Yakov was sure Victor could do that. Simple, to the point, easy instructions.  
Victor had nodded, pleased he was getting his way (as usual), even with Yakov’s obvious grump. He finished tying his skates, tucked the laces, and started towards the rink edge.  
Makkachin whimpered.  
Victor looked back at the poor, neglected poodle entrusted to his care. He sat, alone, tethered to a cold bench that did not give him cuddles or pets or treats... Doomed for eternity to sit and watch everyone else gliding around, smiling, having fun…  
Victor felt his heart break. He imagined himself, brought to an ice rink, forced to sit on the sidelines. No fun!  
Without even really considering the implications, Victor reached over and unknotted the leash around the bench. He held it in his hand, clicking his tongue at the poodle, who leaped towards the rink like it was made of cheese and he just had to have a bite.  
A second later they were on the ice. Or, well, Victor was. He stood a foot from the gap in the boards, leash in hand, clicking to Makkachin who found this all rather strange and exciting, and what exactly was this surface he was supposed to walk on? What was this cold substance in front of him?  
Makkachin spent a good minute sniffing the edge of the ice. He licked it. He barked at it (and that had everyone in the rink skidding to a stop with confusion). He growled at it. He rolled on it, his legs twisting in the air, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.  
Then he looked at Victor, who was waiting with one hand lightly on the leash a good foot away, and he leaped. It wasn’t graceful or profound, it was just the leap of an over excited puppy trying to get to his master. His nails skidded on the ice as panic took over. It was almost cartoon-ish, the way he scrabbled and skittered on the ice, his feet flying in all different directions until he slumped down on his belly like a baby giraffe with all four legs splayed in opposite directions.  
Victor laughed, scooting closer. “Feet down!” He chirped, as if the dog could understand, and lifted the poodle by the hips until he had somewhat gotten his feet under him. Then he did the same under his chest, until Makkachin stood… unsteady… with four feet under him.  
The dog tried to take a step, slid, and ended up chin-down on the ice with a whine.  
“You got this, Makka!” Victor encouraged, setting up the dog’s feet again until he was standing. “Look! One foot, out. Second foot, out. Oh… you have third and fourth feet.” He paused, tapping a finger against his lips – a habit from his mother that had carried over – and eyed the four-footed creature looking up at him.  
“It’s okay!” He crooned, reaching to scratch the pup right behind the ears where he knew he loved it. “Walk. Just walk! You’ll get it!”  
The dog walked. Well, he skidded. He skittered. He followed Victor with a single-minded precision that had the other skaters stopping just to watch.  
When he reached Victor, he leaped again, his paws smacking right against the skater’s chest to shove him down with an audible ‘oof’. Victor’s back hit the ice, then there was 50 pounds of poodle on top of him. He licked at his face and shoved his nose in his ears and in general loved on his human until Victor, laughing, shoved him off.  
Yakov came out of his office fuming. Victor, as usual, ignored him.  
After that, Makkachin became a regular at the rink. Mostly off the ice – he especially liked to hang out with Yakov in his office, much to Yakov’s displeasure (or pleasure? Victor swore he saw the coach once petting the poodle with his fingers tangled in his curly fur… not that he would ever bring it up….). But he was always there, always rink side, sometimes on the ice itself, skittering around until one of the skaters took pity on him and lifted up him to take him back to the rubber mats on the edges.  
Eventually, he didn’t need help. Victor bought him little booties and affixed double blades on them. They were plastic, dull, and held on by zip ties, but they quickly became Makka’s ‘ice skates’. Makka learned to shove off with his back paws, using his front paws to glide, and it was a normal occurrence to see him ‘skating’ around the rink during warm ups, chasing Victor, when it was safe and the skaters weren’t doing high impact jumps or footwork.

Makkachin had loved Yuuri from the start, maybe even before Victor had. Sure, there had been attraction… excitement… lust… but Victor’s love, his true bone-deep can’t-live-without-you love, had taken a bit to develop.  
Makkachin had no such reservations and launched himself in to Yuuri’s life literally from the first day he’d seen him. Literally, he had launched himself at the Japanese man in the onsen’s entrance and had barely noticed Victor since then. He followed Yuuri around, slept with Yuuri on his bed (and oh, was Victor jealous), and in general stuck to the Japanese man’s side the entire time they were in Japan.   
Here in St. Petersburg, at least, he’d noticed Victor again. Mostly because it was Victor’s apartment in Victor’s city, training at Victor’s rink, and usually Victor who fed him each day.   
And if Makkachin loved Yuuri more than Victor? Well, Victor didn’t blame him. Yuuri was, after all, fucking awesome.  
Still, the Russian mulled, as he glanced at the pair snuggled up on the couch without him – sometimes he wondered if the dog was playing favorites on purpose just to get a rise out of him.  
“We should take Makka to the rink tomorrow!” He decided before flopping down on the pair. Yuuri let out an adorable little squeak. Makkachin just flapped his tail.  
“We should? Why?” Yuuri asked, glancing up from his phone. His brow furrowed in a little confused frown, even as Victor nestled himself between them and the back of the couch, nuzzling his nose against Yuuri’s neck. He delighted in the full body shiver he received. Sometimes, Yuuri was just too easy to tease. “Vitya, please, it’s extremely hard to concentrate when you do that…”  
“I know.” Victor replied, nuzzling closer. He grinned at Yuuri’s resigned sigh.   
“Why do you want to take Makka to the rink?” Yuuri asked, trying his best to keep to the topic of conversation.  
“Don’t you know? He can ice skate!”  
“What?” Yuuri asked, clearly confused.  
“Yeah! He’s got little skate booties and everything. He really likes to chase Yura around. It’s hilarious. Yura pretends to hate it but he sneaks Makka treats at lunch.” Victor dropped his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell him I told you.”  
Yuuri, who had avoided the other Yuri as a precautionary measure from day 1, decided that wouldn’t be a problem.  
“But Victor, you can’t let your dog on the ice.” He argued, even as his hand dropped to slide through the other skater’s silver hair. “What if he gets hurt?”  
“It’s been six years.” Victor argued back, dropping soft kisses down Yuuri’s neck and collarbone and shoulder. He tucked a finger in the soft t-shirt to tug it to the side for better access. “He’s used to it! I’ll show you tomorrow. He’s good!”  
And Yuuri, being Yuuri, just grunted and let the matter go, too distracted to care.

The next day, they were gearing up for rink time. It was no longer ‘training clothes and power bars’, no… Yuuri was insistent they both have a proper breakfast, even if that meant him getting up early to make it. Getting up early was not his forte – it only took a week of burned sausages and over-toasted rye before Victor had taken over breakfast duty.   
Now, after weeks of practice, he had it down to an art – sausage and rye for him (and sometimes porridge, if his carb count allowed it), miso and rice for Yuuri (from packets if they hadn’t had time to pre-cook some over the weekend). And good ol Makkachin, well, he got his usual dog food, sometimes with a dash of beef broth for fun.  
Breakfast was usually a quiet affair, since Yuuri needed about two hours to even wake up fully, and afterwards they packed their bags and headed out. This time, Victor shook the leash at Makkachin. Despite his age, the poodle bounced over, tap-taping on his toes as the Russian attached the leash.  
Yuuri looked dubious, but just shrugged and didn’t bother to ask questions as they took off on their morning jog to the rink, packs bouncing against their backs and Makkachin leading the way.  
They arrived at the rink to hollered hellos and other greetings, Victor waving cheerfully while Yuuri ducked his head and mumbled replies. His Russian still wasn’t perfect (though it was good… apparently his fascination with Victor had included some Russian 101 studies), and he was usually pretty shy about using it, even though Victor constantly encouraged him.  
Makkachin was excited. He hadn’t been to the rink since Yuuri and Victor had moved back, and he hopped around now, acting just like a puppy again as Victor pulled his ‘skates’ out of the bag. He fastened the little black booties with their Velcro straps on to the poodle, who then went to the locker room door, waiting with his tail going a mile a minute.  
Yuuri watched this all with an air of resigned confusion mixed with amusement.  
At the edge of the ice, Victor paused, pulling his guards off before sliding on to the surface. Makkachin, good ol’ boy, waited, his tail waving side to side. He barked, which brought most of the rink to a standstill. Victor patted his thighs.  
Makkachin launched himself out on to the ice, his front paws steady while his back paws shoved him forward. He barked joyfully as the skaters on the ice tittered and scattered. His gaze took in the crowd, then he focused on one – poor Yuri, who was really just trying to warm up.  
“Haa!” Yuri exclaimed as he was suddenly being chased by 50 pounds of poodle. “Not again! Dammit, old man, get your mutt under control!”  
Yuuri, on the side of the rink, stared as the poodle played tag with several of the rink’s occupants, all who seemed unsurprised and indeed completely joyful at having the dog on the ice. Eventually he joined them, skating to center ice to watch his fluffy poodle step-child as he darted around nosing the skaters.  
“VITYA.” Came the shout from the offices. “That dog better not be on my ice when I come out there!”  
Victor and Yuuri shared a grin before Victor shouted, “Get Yuuri, Makka!” and Yuuri had to dart across the rink to avoid the poodle’s nose tagging him.

**Author's Note:**

> So there is, actually, an ice skating dog named Benny who I based this idea off of.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAaFEnIJ5ZA
> 
> And considering how often Makka is with Victor in canon YOI, it makes sense he'd be with Victor at the rink. Why wouldn't he join in?   
> Oh, and Victor is just extra enough to make dog skates. Of course.
> 
> This is my first fanfic posting. Ever.   
> Be gentle with me! <3


End file.
